


Scenes from a Kansas Bunker

by squiddely



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-12 06:32:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7924258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiddely/pseuds/squiddely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets of varying lengths, mostly set in some post-S8/9 AU where Cas is human and living in the bunker. In other words, a bunch of snippets of Destiel domesticity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing Cas does every morning is make a beeline for the coffee pot, then stand there staring at it for five minutes, bleary-eyed, watching the mesmerizing drip-drip-drip. Being human again has its downsides - mornings being one of them - but coffee helps.

Dean usually ambles on down to the kitchen a couple minutes later, and stops in the doorway, slouching against the frame, watching Cas watch the coffee. But this morning he wants to be closer, so he pads quietly across the kitchen and slides his arms around Cas' waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. With a contented sigh, Cas relaxes against Dean and leans into him, letting his head rest against Dean's cheek.

They stand together in silence while the coffee continues to drip, until Dean has one of those random thoughts.

"Y'know, Kevin used that coffeemaker to talk to us once upon a time. Wonder what he would say if he could see us now..."

Cas chuckles.

"Probably the same thing Sam said - that it's about time."


	2. Chapter 2

The first time Sam walks in on Cas and Dean making out while they wait for their morning coffee to brew, he doesn't say anything, just turns around and walks out again. After all, he realizes they've got years worth of repressed sexual tension to deal with, and he's just glad they've finally faced up to their feelings.

By the fourth time that week, though, he's getting kind of annoyed. It's not like there's another kitchen he can use, and he's tired of eating granola bars and bananas for breakfast.

So when he walks into the laundry room later that day and finds them wrapped around each other and mostly naked, he has some choice words for them, mainly along the lines of "you two have a room right down the hall, you know!!"

Dean just laughs at him, but Cas seems to listen to Sam's rant, and, thankfully, Dean listens to Cas. In fact, the next morning, Sam overhears a conversation which goes something like this:

"Not in here, Dean. We promised Sam... Dean..."

Cue an exasperated huff on Dean's part.

"Seriously, Cas? You're ruining the moment..."

Several seconds of silence follow, and then Dean's voice again.

"Alright, fine; our bedroom, now."

"But Dean... my coffee..."

"You gotta choose, Cas - coffee or me - which do you love more?"

Judging by the adoring look on Cas' face a few seconds later as Dean drags him past Sam, it's an easy decision. And Sam finally gets to sit down and eat his oatmeal in peace.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean still can't believe Cas managed to talk him into going to the ballet. Cas had looked so excited about it, though, that Dean hadn't had the heart to tell him no. However, he's quite curious as to how Cas knew anything about ballet in the first place - it's hard to picture angelic ballet troupes, and so far as he knows, Cas has never been to a ballet over the millennia of his existence.

So while he's struggling into his dress shirt (and when did it get so tight?), he figures he might as well ask. "Why ballet, Cas? Is this some form of torture to get back at me for getting grease on your favorite shirt?"

The quick grin that crosses Cas' face is enough to convince Dean that the shirt incident probably did play into this at least a little, but the answer Cas gives is actually surprisingly serious. "Ballet is beauty, Dean. It's strength and precision combined with artistry and passion to tell a story, a story left open to the audience's interpretation. It's everything most beautiful about humanity in one performance."

He sounds almost awed by just the thought of it, and his gaze is fixed on something far away - a memory, Dean realizes. "You've been before," he states quietly.

Cas' eyes come back to focus on his face, and a soft smile lifts his lips. "Yes. Balthazar loved the ballet." His gaze drifts again, and his blue eyes stare into a memory of the past. "After the bloody carnage of the French Revolution, he swore there was nothing better than a performance by the Ballet de l'Opéra de Paris to revive our love for humanity. I doubted him at first, but he was right - ballet is an homage to the best of what it means to be human..."

Suddenly, Dean understands why ballet means so much to Cas at this moment. "And now you are human," he finishes softly. "Ballet is your story now, too."

A quick dip of Cas' chin lets Dean know that his conclusion was correct, and he can't stop himself from crossing the room, taking Cas into his arms, and kissing him soundly.

When he pulls back, Cas looks a little surprised, but Dean doesn't give him a chance to say anything. "Never stop being you, Cas," he murmurs, realizing again in this moment how much he loves the hidden depths to his angel.

For a long moment, Cas drops his head to rest it on Dean's shoulder, and they rest in each other's arms. Finally, Cas steps back, muttering something about needing to finish getting ready or they're going to be late, and Dean goes back to fussing with cuff links and that stupid bowtie.

They finish dressing mostly in silence, except for a few curses on Dean's part regarding the intricacies of knotting a bowtie. But as they're about to walk out the door, he catches Cas gazing at him intently, looking pretty much like the cat that ate the canary. "What?" he demands.

"Nothing." Cas looks embarrassed now.

"Nope, that was definitely something. Spit it out..."

Cas shuffles his feet awkwardly, then, so quickly that Dean can barely understand it, blurts out, "The other reason for the ballet is so you would have to dress up."

The combination of that statement and the chagrin evident on Cas' face is enough to make Dean let out a snort of laughter. "You do know I'd dress up for you anytime you asked, right?"

"But I thought you hated suits..." Cas stammers.

Dean grins. "Yeah, but I love you more." Reaching out, he takes Cas' hand and tucks it into the crook of his elbow. "Now c'mon; we don't wanna miss the show."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering how Cas got grease on his favorite shirt, that was a reference to [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1160490), which was posted over at my regular AO3 account since it wasn't explicitly Destiel.


	4. Chapter 4

If there's one thing Dean learns very quickly in their relationship, it's this: you do not - I repeat, _do not_ \- wake Cas up in the morning. Not with a kiss, not with a gentle "g'morning," not with a ten foot pole. Because while Cas might not be an angel anymore, Dean's never been so sure that he was about to be struck down with heavenly wrath than on that first morning, when he started pressing kisses onto Cas' neck and suddenly found himself staring into two very pissed off blue eyes.

Now Dean waits, and while he waits, he watches.

He never really got why Cas was so enamored with watching him sleep, but now that he has the chance to reverse those roles, he finally understands. There's something very vulnerable about Cas as he sleeps, and Dean feels a sudden surge of protectiveness every time Cas twitches from a bad dream, or shifts restlessly, twisting the sheets around his body. When that happens, Dean gently reaches out his hand and places it on his angel's shoulder, and more often than not, that simple touch is enough to dispel the nightmare and restore Cas to peaceful sleep.

And every morning, eventually, the weight of Dean's gaze is enough to cause Cas to wake on his own, blue eyes blinking slowly open, limbs stretching, turning always to find Dean's face and murmur drowsily, "Hello, Dean."

Invariably, Dean loses his calm at those words, the combination of Cas' sleep-roughened voice and rumpled hair and deep blue eyes too much to take. And so, he reaches out and pulls Cas to him, kissing him greedily, letting Cas know exactly how much he wants him. It's an offer that never gets turned down.

And so far as morning routines go, Dean thinks theirs is pretty fucking good, pun intended.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting: Cas is human and has a normal boring human job at the supermarket

Even from the kitchen, Dean could hear the clang of the bunker door being practically slammed shut. A few minutes later, Cas appeared in the kitchen doorway, and the frustrated scowl on his face, combined with the earlier door-slamming, was enough to clue Dean in. "Long day?"

Cas grunted an affirmative.

"Want to talk about it?"

Another grunt, this time fairly clearly a "no."

Dean shrugged, and went back to chopping up carrots for dinner. After a moment, he heard Cas shift from the doorway, coming to lean on the counter near where Dean was working.

After several more minutes of silence, broken only by the sound of the knife rocking on the cutting board, Cas spoke. "I don't understand why 'the customer is always right,' because they are almost always wrong." He sounded genuinely puzzled. "But my manager yelled at me for a long time about that today, and he must know..."

Setting aside the knife, Dean stepped over to stand in front of Cas, and dropped his hands to rest firmly on Cas' hips. "Customers are idiots, and your manager is too, for yelling at you." He pulled Cas a little closer, then leaned in and kissed him soundly. "And you are better than all of them, you got that?"

Cas nodded slowly, and Dean felt him relax just a little, letting go of some of the day's stress.

Pulling back a bit, Dean went on, "And if your job sucks that bad... You do know you don't have to work if you don't want to, right? 'Cause I've got twenty-odd years practice at credit card fraud, and I'm pretty damn good at it..."

But Cas shook his head vehemently. "No, Dean. This is what humans do."

Dean sort of got it; after all, he'd spent a lot of his life wishing for (and knowing he could never have) a normal apple-pie life. Cas had a chance at it now, though, and if that was what he wanted, then Dean would move heaven and hell to make sure he got it. So instead of trying to talk Cas into anything, Dean strolled over to the fridge and pulled out a couple beers, popping the caps off. "Okay then. We'll stick with normal human stuff, like getting totally wasted after a shitty day."

A tentative smile crept across Cas' face, and he gladly took the beer Dean handed him. "Sounds good."


	6. Chapter 6

The golden light of the sunrise is just beginning to seep through the ratty motel curtains, as Dean wakes slowly, yawning and blinking the sleep from his eyes.

He's sprawled comfortably on his back, but his one arm has gone numb at some point overnight, probably because Cas is fast asleep on top of it. Very carefully, so as not to wake Cas, Dean pulls his arm out. There's a incoherent, half-awake mumble of protest from Cas, but he doesn't really wake up, just wriggles in a little closer to Dean and relaxes back into sleep.

Dean tucks his one hand up behind his head, ignoring the pins-and-needles of returning blood flow, and smiles softly down at Cas. With his other hand, Dean runs his fingers gently through Cas' dark hair, messing it up even more than it already was. It's a perfect morning, and Dean still can't quite believe that this is the new normal for them.

Sure, they've got the insanity of hunting down freaky stuff during the day, but crashing in crappy motel rooms is a lot better when you aren't sleeping alone. And it's not just the sex (although Dean will freely admit that the sex is awesome). Maybe Dean's getting sappy in his old age, but he actually likes all the romantic crap - cuddling, quiet conversations, waking up next to Cas every morning... He's never really loved someone like this before, and he's definitely never been loved like this, ever. This is new, it's an adventure like nothing he's ever experienced, and It. Is. Awesome.

And a little while later, as Cas blinks slowly awake and smiles up at Dean, Dean knows he's never been happier in his life. They might have a monster to chase down today, but the morning is theirs alone, and that's more than enough.


	7. Chapter 7

It's just after dinner, and Dean is washing up the dishes when Cas comes up behind him, rests his hands on Dean's hips, and gently kisses the back of Dean's neck.

"Don't let me interrupt you," Cas mutters.

Dean smiles, and picks up a dirty mug. A few seconds later, Cas' hands start to creep downward. Dean almost drops the mug, and his voice comes out slightly strangled. "Cas... hands."

Dean can almost hear Cas grinning as he says, "Are you done with the dishes yet?"

Twisting around, Dean pins Cas against the opposite wall. "Oh yes, I'm done."

Then his lips are on Cas' mouth and his hands are in Cas' hair and neither of them cares that Dean's hands are still covered in soap suds, because they're really too busy thinking about much more important things. Later on, Dean will realize that he never did finish the dishes, but by then Cas is curled up half asleep against his chest, and there's no way Dean is getting out of bed for anything short of the world ending.


End file.
